


Standing Tall

by Devilc



Category: Friday Night Lights
Genre: Gen, Laundrylist
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-01-11
Updated: 2010-01-11
Packaged: 2017-10-06 04:41:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 916
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/49765
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Devilc/pseuds/Devilc
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He might be in a wheelchair, but Jason Street can still stand up for himself.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Standing Tall

**Author's Note:**

> Written for FNL_Laundrylist #13 _5\. Jason quits the team (missing scene)_

_Mascot_.

Jason spends the rest of the game seething with rage. He keeps it bottled up tight. Anybody who looks at him might think that he's wound up about something, but this is a nail biter of a game, so it's only natural that he'd be wound up. He's not going to throw a tantrum. He's a man. He's a professional. And he's going to fucking well act it.

(_Mascot my ass._)

McGregor has no idea what it took to get Saracen in shape for the playoffs, how hard Jason worked with him. And yes, Matt's never going to be the flashy, dazzling superstar that Smash is, and that's all McGregor can see right now  Smash. Has he ever stopped to wonder what if something happens to Smash? Because anything can happen at any moment, Jason knows that better than anyone. Smash is one bad tackle away from a career ending knee injury. And McGregor's put all his eggs in that basket.

If anything happens, he's going to fucking wish he paid more attention to the passing game, because right now, McGregor doesn't even have Tim to turn to, not really. Jason has tried to tell him that, but no.

_Whatever happens, he'll be doing it without my help._

The realization startles Jason a bit.

But yeah. Herc said it best, and just because he's a cripple doesn't mean Jason's got to take McGregor's or anyone else's crumbs.

Part of him wants to call a press conference and make a big public resignation. But ... that would actually make McGregor's point  that he's just playing on people's sympathy.

When the game ends, he wheels straight through the locker room, past McGregor, who's yelling and screaming his damn head off, trying to pin it all on Matt. And yeah, Matt did throw the first punch, but McGregor's made such a mess of things that he can't see the mess he's made of things, the monster he's making out of Smash.

He slides his card key, opens the door to his office, and fires up the computer. While it boots, he starts thinking about what he wants to say.

Jason's got options. He took this job because Coach Taylor thought he would bring something to the program. But right now, he doesn't _need_ it, besides, because he's got no college degree, it's not like it paid a lot of money. He was planning to start classes at the JuCo come spring, working on getting an AS in Sports Medicine, and then seeing about a transfer to UTA. So, now, he'll just have more time to track down scholarships and grants.

As for coaching, well, he'll just help out with Pee-Wee football for now. They'll be happy to have his help. It doesn't pay, but it gives Jason another line to put on his resume, and Jason likes the idea of working with kids, making a real difference in somebody's life when they're young.

A part of him wants to tell McGregor that he's getting let off real easy. Jason knows his rights (thank you, Herc) and McGregor is lucky as hell that Jason's not suing his ass because that kind of remark is clearly prejudicial and creates a hostile work environment.

In the end, though, Jason goes with simple. McGregor would just dismiss anything he has to say as whining and entitlement.

I hereby resign, effective immediately  and his signature. (A scrawl that comes straight out of the Tim Riggins school of penmanship.)

It only takes him a few minutes to put his personals in his backpack and untack a few photos from the bulletin board. He never brought any of his old trophies. The only one that matters is the one around his neck.

The letter sits on his desk for 30 minutes as he thinks it over. Because this is ... once he hands that letter over, it's _done_. There is no going back, no undoing it.

But this is the right thing to do. Jason knows in his heart that he has no future with Dillon Panther Football, not so long as a narrow-minded fool like McGregor is in charge of the program.

The press and players are long gone and the parking lot's nearly empty by the time that Jason catches up with McGregor next to his car and hands him the envelope.

"What's this?" he barely glances at it, or Jason.

"My letter of resignation." Jason squares his shoulders and lifts his chin.

McGregor grunts and tucks it in his jacket pocket, not even bothering to open it and read it, nor does he try and talk to Jason, ask him to reconsider. He seems almost relieved.

_So this is it, then_ Jason thinks as he turns and starts to wheel away.

"'Bout time you did this." He hears McGregor say over his shoulder. "Football's no place for a cripple."

Jason snaps the chair around. "Really? Then what are you still doing here?"

McGregor's mouth opens and shuts into a tight, hard line. Rage flares in his eyes.

It's funny how Jason never noticed how mean and piggy those eyes are until this moment. In an icy voice he continues, "You're the cripple here  you can't see past my chair." He turns and heads towards his truck.

He's got plans.

He's going to walk again someday, hopefully soon.

But legs or no, Jason's got a whole future ahead of him.

And he doesn't need handouts from condescending assholes like that one to make it happen.


End file.
